Fluid Existence
by DarkKritter
Summary: In times of war we have to remember that there's always something to live for.


Woo yeah, I'm on a fan fic kick right now. Woot. So take that. This is my third fic in like... two hours. And I keep reading other fics in between. Its three in the morning so forgive me if this is weird.  
  
Um, I still own no one... sadly... not even myself cause I sold my soul for a piece of cake. It was damned good cake though.  
  
Fluid Existence  
  
I won't believe it until I see it. That's what my life is based on. Seeing is knowing. Before I saw magic I didn't believe it. Before I saw Voldemort I didn't believe in pure evil. But I learned a lot of things by seeing. And still I don't believe it until I see it.  
  
So its all right that the war was bloody and a lot of people died. Its all right because in the end we won. A hollow victory since the world itself needed to be rebuilt, but it was a victory. Voldemort had been vanquished, because I'm not naive enough to say that evil was vanquished. Just one speck of evil. We'll wait until the next one comes.  
  
I'm not bitter. Well, maybe just a little. But you would be too if you saw all your friends die in front of you. Except Harry. He can't die because he's the hero. No one reminded Ron that he wasn't the hero and that he was in the end expendable. I remember seeing red hair and red blood, matching so horribly. I remember holding a still warm body in my hands and tearing. I didn't even remember that the battle was still going on. I just held onto the hope that if I was there everything would be all right. Brown eyes would open again and all would be well.  
  
But magic doesn't work that way. So my hands were covered in blood when I was dragged away and red hair and red blood was left on the battle field to be cleaned up later. Harry won, not that I doubted him. No one did because if we did we would defeat ourselves. No one doubted Dumbledore, even as he strode to his death just to give Harry a few more moments. We all cheered even, when Voldemort finally fell. We barely even noticed red blood and red hair.  
  
But now I notice. Its hard not to notice a lack of red when we get together. Twins seperated, only George made it. Bill looking sad as he forgets he's truly the oldest now. Percy doesn't even bother to show up, he knows he's not welcome. Ron... poor Ron. Harry too, poor Harry blaming himself for every death. Most of the Gryffindors we knew were killed. No one was here to celebrate our graduation.   
  
The clapping is filled with remorse because there should be more of us. The graduating class is so few, and everyone looks sad when its not Dumbledore giving us his praises.  
  
I'm not sure what to say when they call my name. I'm supposed to give a speech, being Head Girl and all. I had had one prepared, before the battles. Before war called and even lessons seemed unimportant. So I said what I could, made up a lot and got a polite applause in response. Then we all graduated and suddenly we were adults.  
  
Ironic almost since I felt time wisened and old.  
  
We celebrate that night at the Burrow since 12 Grimmauld place has no happy memories. And the Burrow itself seems sad because there are fewer occupants than its ever seen. But whoever's survived the war had come and so the house isn't empty. Not by far. But it will never see most of its owners again.  
  
Not even Arthur Weasley will come home again.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looks happy despite the fact that her actual son did not make it. Having so many children must be hard because it means losing more. But she still has some. Not many, but some. And she's happy for Harry and I because we're virtually children. And when she's crying that night, and everyone hears her because the house is for some reason quiet, no one knows what to do.  
  
I just lean back against the warmth behind me and try to ignore it. She's warm behind me, her arms around me and the sight of her red hair shocks me for a moment. Red is too much now, too like blood, too like death. But at least its not green. Not that horrible green light which just robs us of too much.  
  
And her arms feel good, and her lips feel even better. Its almost blasphemy I feel, being almost happy when everyone else is very sad. But then again her lips have always made me feel happy. And the whisper of words in my ear, promises and love and joy. And once we're facing each other and eyes the color of mocha peer into my own and I can feel the love pouring out of them into me, I almost smile. Almost because then her lips are on mine and her hands are on my body and its all about the touch.  
  
There's love of course, but right now we need touch. We both need to know that we're still here and that we're not going anywhere. And so she kisses down my body, kisses my clavicle, ignores my breasts because she knows they do nothing for me. She plays with my belly button ever so lightly because Merlin be damned if that doesn't do it for me. And I try not to moan because that would be wrong, and I try not to scream out but I let myself sob because its appropriate.  
  
And she's kissing my thighs and it feels wonderful and she's touching me just there where I need her to be. And then its all liquid warmth and my entire being is there with her. And then she's in me and out of me and everywhere around me, and I'm her and its all confusing because want and need is too much to comprehend when she's doing it like that. She knows me so well. So damned well.  
  
And then its over and my sobs turn into breathy moans which won't be heard by anyone but her. She drinks them in with her lips because its all she needs to survive. She's told me that plenty of times. And she's whispering how much she loves me, how much she would do anything for me. How she'll be with me for the rest of her life and forever after if I asked it.  
  
And I nod and cry and wonder if she meant it as a proposal because it sounds like it. And I fall asleep against her. In the morning I'll discuss it with her more, because right now sleep is more important.  
  
Mrs Weasley cries when we tell her, happy tears, because she says, at least something good has come of this. And she looks at her daughter in happiness, and no one is mad at us for loving each other. No one accuses me of being wrong because I should have loved Ron and not his sister. George looks a little surprised but he doesn't say a word. He just congratulates me and Ginny.  
  
And I know Harry knows but no one else needs to know. I do too but I won't say anything and neither will he. It won't matter anyway. So long as I have my Ginny it won't matter. But when I see Tonks change back, just for one moment so she can remind herself of who she actually is before she quickly changes back to red hair and brown eyes that I know so well, I cry. But I never say anything because I still love the color red. 


End file.
